It's the end of the week. And a blog post has to be written. Not because anyone is holding a gun to my head. But because it's the discipline I've placed upon myself.
That probably doesn't make much sense to you, unless you're also a writer.
I also know I'm running the danger of appearing self important. I'm not. I've never deluded myself into thinking anyone gives a rat's ass about this blog. And if they did, I'd be the first to tell them to knock it off.
With that said, today we're going back to the vault for a look at some of the photos tucked away in my extensive digital collection.
The photo at the top was snapped along Pearl Street in Boulder Colorado. And if you've ever been there you know it is lily white, affluent and populated with God's most beautiful people. We were asked to leave.
I found this somewhere on the Internet. I wish I had done it, but I didn't. I'm not that good with the photoshop and have a hard enough time slamming one of my books into some poor Senator's hands.
This was shot shortly before the finishing touches on our newly remodeled bathroom. You know you've reached adulthood when you get excited about a two speed toilet, one for pee-pee and another (louder and more powerful) for meat torpedos.
Sadly, it's getting even more rare for the four of us to get together. Here we are at Playa Provisions before my 4th Mojito. "Get outtta my house."
This was spotted on Santa Monica Blvd. It's a perfectly good, faux fur coat in surprisingly good condition. It was a little tight around my not so insignificant barrel chest, so I left it there.
This is a canvas bag with an original design by my increasingly Nihilistic daughter. Does it make me laugh every time I see it? You're damn right it does.
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